


Hollow

by Vittarius



Category: The Tunnels Series - Roderick Gordon & Brian Williams
Genre: And a tiny bit of romance?, Angst, Brothels, Child Neglect, Drug Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Multi, Really dark, Sorry Not Sorry, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Well...it's a Tunnels' story after all, and death, but also fluff, like a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vittarius/pseuds/Vittarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>[DISCOTINUED] I've got a few more chapters written and everything planned till the end, but I lack of the motivation. Maybe someday I'll get back to this. Today is not the day. <br/>-----<br/><i>"So how much do you need the money?" the man asked.</i><br/><i>He reached out and grabbed Will's chin, caressing his cheek.</i><br/><i>" 'Cause, you know, I may actually have a little job for you." </i><br/><br/>Tunnels Series!AU where Will's parents are extremely neglecting (gasps) and he has to grow up and become the man of the house. In order to take care of Rebecca he starts doing things on the edge of the law, slowly spiralling into disgrace as the situation gets out of hand. Well, he has to get the money somehow, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters are going to show up at some given moment.  
> And I really mean _all_ of them.  
>  Okay, maybe not the Brights, this is supposed to be realistic, after all.
> 
> Also, be prepared to fall under the weight of angst, fluff and neverending suffering.  
>   
> Welcome aboard ;)

Will's stomach growled. He clenched his teeth and tried not to think about how hungry he was. He shifted in bed remembering the past few days.

For a long while, his mind had been confused. He had convinced himself that it was normal... that maybe families were supposed to work like that.  
But nevertheless, as he grew older he had gradually realized that his family was more dysfunctional than average.  
It wasn't that his parents were abusive. They'd never hurt him or Rebecca, and he knew that. _At least not on purpose._ They were just… neglecting.

His father was never home. He only returned to sleep or eat sometimes, and those were the lucky days. He made "work trips" every month, occasionally leaving for weeks without a warning. Will knew his father had lost his job at the museum almost a year ago. He knew it the moment the checks had stopped coming, the moment the fridge had started to get empty. It was around the same time when his father had started to come home later than usual, smelling like alcohol and cigarettes. But he kept leaving for trips as if nothing had changed. Will had not the faintest idea about what his father did in those trips. He really hoped he was looking for a new job. As time went by, it became very clear for the boy that it wasn't the case. Maybe he had an affair, or maybe he left to gamble. That would explain a lot of things, like the reason he came back home with less money he had left with.  
And his mother, well, she had problems. She was always sleeping and taking those pills. God, Will _hated_ those pills. He couldn't blame her, though. It wasn't her fault. She needed some serious help but he was a fourteen year old boy with no money or adult guidance, what was he supposed to do?

Some primal instinct made him felt obliged to protect his sister as much as he could. She was only eleven years old, she didn't have to know all the stuff that was going on. Will could tell that she knew sometimes, though. She was a very clever girl, after all. But maybe if he kept sugarcoating things for her, maybe she could continue to enjoy her childhood for a little bit more. He didn't want her soul to be as broken as his was.

He had taken the habit of walking Rebecca to school every day as his mother was too gone in the mornings to take care of them. Sometimes he arrived a bit late to pick her up, making excuses about how his teacher wouldn't let them out on time.  
He couldn't tell her that he had actually skipped class. That he had been looking for a job around the neighborhood. That his hands ached because he had been removing weeds of Mrs. Andrews' garden the whole morning.  
Because he knew that he had just earned three pounds, and that his sister wouldn't be hungry for at least that night.

  


* * *

  


He shifted again, unable to find a comfortable position with his belly hurting so badly. But maybe hunger wasn't the only reason. Maybe he couldn't sleep because he knew that there were only 27 pennies left and nothing in the cupboard for her sister to eat in the morning. She shouldn't go to school with an empty stomach.

Will's throat ached from anguish and despair. He didn't know what to do. His father had left two weeks ago and he hadn't called ever since.

Tired of shifting in bed, he got up and went to see his mother. He didn't even thought about looking for her in the main bedroom, and he went straight into the living room.  
  
She was sprawled over the couch with the TV on, as always. Her hair was a mess and the strong scent emerging from her could've positively belonged to a wild animal. He couldn't remember the last time his mother had left the couch to take a shower. As he approached more it didn't escaped him the bottle of pills barely supported by her bony hands, as well as the dried blood in her left nostril. Her body couldn't take it anymore. She was falling to pieces.  
He took the bottle from her cold fingers and laid it on the coffee table. As he turned to her mother again he half expected to see her complaining about her pills being taken away. However, she had not even fazed. He coughed and tried to clear his sore throat. Once more, she didn't acknowledge him nor even moved.

He reached the couch and tugged at her sleeve.

"Mum," He pleaded, failing to recognize the hopelessness in his voice.

He cupped her face in his hands and shook it lightly.

"Oi, mum." _Please._

She mumbled something and tried to get away from his grip. He let his hands fall to his sides and sighed in defeat.

His mother was drugged beyond hope, too numb to even care. She was not to wake up for at least another twelve hours.

He tried shakily to stop the tears forming in his eyes. He felt puny and most of all, alone.


	2. Shattered

“Will?” Rebecca mused, startling his brother. He turned around and saw his little sister standing a few feet away from him. Her brow furrowed, her eyes blurry with sleep. 

“What’s wrong, sis?” he said softly, walking towards her. He wiped away his tears, subtly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as a reply. 

“Oh, nothing,” he shoved off. “I was thirsty.” 

She made a pause as if she wasn’t quite sure she believed him.

“Why are you crying?” she said then.

“What? No, I’m not crying. My throat it’s a little sore, that’s all.” He sniffed and faked a cough. 

“But are you okay?” she asked quietly, too sleepy to argue. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. “Hey, you’ve got school tomorrow,” he added, changing the subject abruptly. “You shouldn’t be up this late. Let’s get you back to bed, alright?”

“Okay” she said simply. Will placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her towards her bedroom. She followed him for a few steps but then stopped dead in her tracks.

“And mum?” she asked.

“What about her?” Will said, confused.

“How much longer is she gonna sleep?” she replied, her eyes glossy as if she were about to cry. 

“Oh.” Will’s heart wrenched and he smiled sadly, tousling Rebecca's hair. “Can’t say. She’s tired, y’know? But she’ll be fine.”  
  
_I hope so._  
  
“Now…” he put one hand on his hip and scratched his chin with the other “…where was I?” He pursed his lips. “Oh yes!”

He crouched and took Rebecca by the waist making roaring sounds.

“I’m a _Segisaurus,_ ” he grunted, making her laugh. “The laziest dinosaur to ever exist. And I want to sleep,” he added with a growl. The boy didn’t even bother trying to keep it quiet, it wasn’t as if his mother could wake up, was it? “Now let’s get to bed” he told her as he entered her room.

He placed her on the bed and tugged her tightly.

“Comfortable?” he asked. She nodded. 

“Is Mr. Sunshine with you?” he joked. Rebecca lifted the blanket to show him an oddly shaped puppet. 

“Perfect,” he smiled, pinching her nose.

He turned to leave but felt Rebecca’s hand catching his wrist.

“Could you stay for a while?” she begged. Will looked at his sister, puzzled. She had that painful expression she wore when she was scared. His gut twisted. That was an expression he’d rather not see in his sister’s face.

Rebecca moved a little, so he could sit next to her.  
He nodded in agreement.

“Okay, but just for a minute,” he warned.

He lay next to her, closing his eyes.

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…” he started counting. Rebecca grumbled.  
  


* * *

  
Will’s eyes snapped open. He must have fallen asleep at some moment. He was freezing. Rebecca was shivering by his side, too. He had one arm curled around her, and her long hair was tickling his nose. He disentangled from the embrace, twisting a little to take a look at his wrist watch. The bright digits confirmed that he still had a couple of hours before getting up.  
He rubbed his eyes trying to erase any remaining of sleepiness and stared at the ceiling. He was running out of time. He shuffled around all the options he had. _If only…_  
He got up and lifted the blanket that was on the floor, covering Rebecca with it. He left after deactivating her sister’s alarm clock.  
  


* * *

  
“Gee, just look at the time!” Will said entering her sister’s room. “Come on, we’re gonna be late!”  
She sprang to her feet.

“What? Oh no-” she cursed softly.

“I know. Get ready, there’s no time for breakfast” he said, sounding all too casual.

Rebecca cursed again as Will left so she could get dressed.  
  


* * *

  
He had _lied_ to her. He had _manipulated_ her own sister into believing him so she wouldn’t notice there was no food left in the house. He felt sick. As the older brother he should be protecting her instead of making excuses because of his failure.  
But he was also tired of struggling and fighting. He knew he shouldn’t be the one providing for the family. He hated his father for leaving them, hated his mother for being so weak, hated his life for being so unfair. However, this was his reality and he would have to face it sooner or later.

At that moment, the most pressing issue was that he had less than six hours to get something for her sister to eat when she got back from school. There was no way she wouldn’t notice if they skipped dinner too.

He didn’t feel like going to school, so he just went back home. He glanced at his mother, still in the same place as if time hadn’t passed. Truth is, he was worried sick about her. She hadn’t eaten anything in almost two days, as she had been virtually comatose. He would have to prepare her a huge meal as soon as he managed to get some money.

He went to the kitchen and served himself a glass of water to try and calm his hunger. It didn’t work wonders, but it was something. He returned to the living room and stared once more at his mother. 

She was the ghost of the woman she used to be. He remembered how she was like years ago, when she at least tried. She would wear makeup and shiny earrings, nice dresses, take them to the park, cook meals for them. But that was all gone.  
_Maybe not all of it._

He sprinted to her mother’s room and started fumbling around, opening drawers, making a mess. After rummaging for a few moments, he found a tiny box and tore the bow open smiling to himself.  
  


* * *

  


“What do you mean it’s not silver?” Will shouted angry at the man, slamming his hands on the crystal counter.

“Easy kid,” the man warned. “Look, I can give you…seven pounds for the earrings and ten more for the necklace. Take it or leave it,” the trader said.

“This is worth so much more,” the boy spat, enraged. “You think I’m stupid or what? Is this some kind of shitty joke? I knew the moment I saw you that you were a bloody swindler,” he turned around, ready to leave.

“Good Lord,” the man uttered, amused. “No need to be rude. I’m giving you, let’s say, twenty pounds for both of them. And that’s my final offer”.

Will tried to stay calm but his annoyance was rather obvious.

“Look, I just need the money,” the boy explained, facing him again. “…and this is not enough. I’m telling you, this is real silver, with real stones and shit.”

The man looked him up and down very slowly, smiling a little.

“So how much do you need the money?” he asked, with a voice so velvety it disgusted Will.

“I just need it,” he said plainly. His face burned as the man kept checking him out. _Why was he doing that?_ He averted his eyes, looking at the floor. His fists clenched but he tried to remain submissive as if not to cross the guy.

“Alright,” the man announced. “I’ll give you sixty pounds for your fake jewelry”. 

Will sighed, relieved. Sixty pounds? That was good. He could pay the gas and other bills that had been piling up over the kitchen table. And the rent! And if he managed it well, he could buy enough food for two weeks. And by that time Will was sure his father would have already returned home. 

“That’s okay” Will agreed, trying to sound not too eager. 

“But…” the man added “…I might have a little work for you.” Will looked up, startled and caught the hint of a smirk on the man’s face.

“Uh… what kind of work?” Will’s brow furrowed. 

“Oh, nothing too serious.”  
  
The man extended a hand and grabbed Will's chin, long nails digging in the pale skin. Will felt his eyes water, but didn't move. The man caressed his cheek and then let go.  
  
“Yer quite special, aren't you? I'm sure you'll manage just fine. They're gonna _love_ you. Lemme see…" the man rummaged in his pocket until he found what he was looking for. "Here" he said, handing Will a raggedy piece of paper. "If you ever need some more money... well, that's the address. Be sure you tell them _Tom Cox_ sent you. And take your money," he added, ending the conversation as he left three bills on the counter.


	3. Rewritten

Will folded the paper and shoved it deep in his pocket, deciding not to ever get close to that place. That Tom Cox man gave him the creeps and he didn't want to have anything to do with that guy, or his friends for that matter.  
  
He was happy nonetheless, as he now carried more money than he had had in weeks and that meant he could buy tasty things instead of cheap canned food.  
  
He arrived earlier than usual to pick Rebecca from school. She was tired and hungry, as was to be expected. Will offered to carry her bag displaying the biggest smile he could manage.  
  
“What do you say if we...go grab some ice cream?” he asked.  
  
Rebecca's eyes glimmered.  
  
“For real?” she said, almost unable to believe him.  
  
“For real” he confirmed.  


* * *

  
Later, as they walked past Sainsbury’s, Will suggested they could go shopping once they've finished their ice creams.  
  
“You know, the fridge is getting kinda empty,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. Kinda empty meaning it had only ice cubes, a bottle of water and half a lemon.  
  
Rebecca nodded.  
  
“What would you like to eat for dinner tonight?” he asked, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief and straightening the collar of her jacket.  
  
“I don't know” Rebecca said. "Are you going to eat with me this time?”  
  
Will hesitated, almost missing a step. For the last few days he had been excusing himself, telling her sister he had already eaten something before. But the real thing was that he had skipped dinner over and over, just so the food would last a little bit longer. Just so her sister could eat one more day.  
  
“Of course,” he replied, his heart beating faster.  
  
“Good” she said, as if she had just scolded him.  


* * *

  
About an hour later they were still at the supermarket. Will was trying to choose a cut of meat as he caught her sister staring at the candies’ shelf.  
  
“Do you want something from there?” he asked softly.  
  
Rebecca jolted and turned red.  
  
“Wh-what? No, no. This is too expensive. We can't afford this. I was just looking.”  
  
“Hey it's okay. We can take one if you want,” he laughed reassuring.  
  
Rebecca shook her head and Will sighed. She shouldn't be like this, so worried about money.  
He smiled at her and dropped the topic.  
  
“Okay. Could you please help me pick a piece of meat?” he asked all too polite. "I wanna cook some stew tonight, but I think I need an expert.”  
  
He left Rebecca next to the fridges and went to the other aisle to pick some carrots as she had commanded. On the way back he took one big chocolate bar from the shelf Rebecca had been looking at and hid it in the trolley.  
  
“Are you ready?” he inquired.  
  
“Yep,” she replied handing him a tray with an enormous piece of beef.  
  
“That was quick. You sure?” he said, looking at it.  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
“Looks like I've gotta trust on you about this,” he winked.  
  
They went to the checkout counters with a full trolley and Will was pleased to know he would be able to pay for all that stuff.  


* * *

  
When they reached home, they stored everything in the cupboards and prepared dinner together -though Rebecca made most of the work. She liked cooking, and she was good at it.  
  
Now and then, Will left the kitchen in order to check on his mother. She hadn’t even moved yet, but as he entered the living room for the umpteenth time he decided it was time to try and woke her up.  
  
“Mum,” he said. "Mum, wake up. It’s dinner time.”  
  
He hesitated.  
  
“We’re making stew,” he added trying to persuade her. “The way you like it.”

After some struggling, his mother finally managed to open her eyes.

“Does it have garlic? Because if it has, then the hell I’m moving.”  
  
Will blurted out in laughter, so relieved his mother was awake. Even in that state she was an adult, she knew how to do stuff, and she could help them.

“No, it doesn’t have garlic,” he assured. “I forgot to buy it.”

“You better,” her mother snapped dropping the blanket to the floor in her first attempt of getting out of the couch.

“Come with us,” he invited. “This- this would make you feel better.”

She stood up stumbling a little and Will offered his arm to her.

“Here,” he said, grabbing her waist and guiding her towards the bathroom.

“I’ll let you wash your hands and- and you should take a look at that bleeding.”

She turned to face him and Will could’ve sworn she was the fourteen year old kid instead of him. She looked fragile, something you have to take care of.

“Thank you, Will,” she mused, and his son nodded.

“I’ll be right here. Just if you need me. Take your time,” he replied before closing the door and going back to the kitchen.

She took the advice quite literally. The stew had finished cooking and his mother had yet to come out of the bathroom. She had been more than forty minutes in there. Worried that she may have taking more pills and dozed off in the bathtub as she had done in the past, he ran towards the bathroom.

He knocked on the door with more strength than necessary.  
“Mom, open up.” 

Silence.

He glanced at Rebecca.  
  
“Mom, open the door, please,” she cried.

“Mom, I’m kicking the door. Just- just stay out of the way, okay?” He didn’t know if she could hear him, he just needed to keep talking in order to push the thoughts away.  
  
_She’s probably dead by now,_ one voice said. _You took so long,_ another added. _It’s your fault,_ the first one said again, and it sounded quite like his father. His father, who wasn’t even there. A man who had left two children on their own with a sick mother. He had no right.

Enraged, Will started kicking the door. He hadn’t realized he had started screaming, too.

“Mom, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna- ”

The door opened from the inside and his mother emerged from it, towel in hand and around her body. Will lost his balance and almost fell forward.

“Mum?” he asked.

“Jesus, I was just taking a bath, were you really going to knock the door down?”

“Yes, I was!” he shouted, half relieved, half angry with his mother. Why couldn’t she answer them? God.

“Sorry to worry you, children. I was in the tub relaxing so I closed my eyes for a second and the next thing I knew was that you were screaming.”  
  
So she _had_ dozed off.

“Rebecca, could you go check on the stew, please?” he asked without taking his eyes off his mother.

“Will?” the girl replied, confused.

“Could you?”

The girl left, reluctantly. As she had just disappeared around the corner, Will pounced on his mother and seized her wrists.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” he hissed, a dangerous whisper. “Closing your eyes and never waking up? Is this what you want?”  
  
Her mother looked at him astonished. She tried to argue but he wouldn’t let her.  
  
“You’re tearing this family apart. I had enough. She,” he said gesturing toward the kitchen, “doesn’t deserve this.” 

He glanced at her, scheming. He then lowered his eyes toward her wrists and the way he was grabbing her, strong enough to bruise. He let her go exhaling heavily.  
  
“I’m giving you two options: or you stop taking those fucking pills by your own free will, or you go seek professional help. I don’t want your toxic behaviors any near my sister. You’re going to get clean or you could grab your things and get the hell out of here.”

“But if I leave… what are you going to do the two of you? Alone.”

He snorted.

“As if you ever cared before,” he said dryly and turned around.

“Another thing,” he stated without facing her. “You’re going to join us for dinner and act normal. No scenes. And tomorrow morning I want you to take Rebecca to school. I don’t give a fuck about what you want. You can just pretend, but don’t you even dare to let her see how sick you are. Don’t forget we don’t need you.” 

The night went on without any further complications. The stew was delicious and Will congratulated her sister for it. Celia ate without speaking too much, only asking banal things. She was slouching like a beaten up dog, her head down, her eyes never looking at Will. The boy felt almost guilty, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to protect his sister. 

After they’ve finished eating, Rebecca cleared the table and put the dishes in the sink, rubbing them absently. When Will tried to help her, she dismissed him sharply. Her mother stood up murmuring she needed to get something done, and left the kitchen. Will watched her go and noticed she was organizing the living room, picking up the junk piled by the side of her couch.  
  
Without knowing what to do, he went to his room and lay in bed, closing his eyes.  
  
He fell asleep with a smile and a full stomach for the first time in days.  


* * *

  
The next morning he woke up to the sound of the microwave. He stood up and found his mother with a cup coffee. She had tamed her hair and was making breakfast for Rebecca, who was sit at the table. The girl looked so happy, her worries now vanished. Will couldn’t help but smile at her. This was something they’ve been longing for ages.

He locked eyes with his mother. “Morning, mum.”  
  
“I was going to wake you up in a minute. I’m making toasts,” she said awkwardly.  
  
“I see,” he smiled. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna get ready for school,” he announced. He had no worries now. It was time to go back.

  



	4. Vanished

Ten days had passed since the last incident and there were no news about his father. Will thought about the possibility that he might have finally left them for good.  
It was a dark prospect. They still had food for some days, but it wouldn't last forever.  
  
That night Will thought for the first time about the paper he had been given.  
He opened the drawer of his nightstand, searching for it.  
  
_The Garden of the Second Sun,_ it read.  
  
But he couldn't do it. He knew what he would find if he followed that address, he wasn't stupid. The man at the shop had been more than eloquent. He wasn't ready, though. He wasn't _that_ desperate yet. He sighed and collapsed over the bed.  
  
His mother was slowly getting better. She was taking care of Rebecca, spending more time with her. Will knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Every now and then, she still had some setbacks where Will would find her crying or looking for her pills –which obviously he had thrown away. And she still watched a lot of TV.  
  
One day he found her reading the _Yellow Pages_ and she explained she was looking for a therapist.  
  
“I can’t do this alone,” she whispered. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”  
  
“It’s okay, mum. I’m proud of your decision. There are some things we can’t do on our own. You want to get better and that’s the first step, isn’t it?”  
  
She nodded and hugged him, and all the tensions between them seemed to have vanished.

  


* * *

  


As long as his mother remained emotionally unstable, she wouldn’t be able to provide for them. Even if she were better, it would be hard for her to find a job. It would take time, a couple of months maybe, and that was the best case-scenario.  
No, he would have to take care of everything, at least until she got better.

That afternoon, after school he decided to ask the neighbor next door if she needed a hand with repairs.  
  
“I’m good with my hands. I’m used to hardworking,” he said nodding.  
  
“I know, you’re a good boy,” the lady smiled. Will winced, knowing what those words meant. “But I don’t need any help now,” she replied. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”  


“Yeah, don’t worry. Thanks for your time, Mrs. Tantrumi.” He waved at her and turned around to leave.  
  
“Oh, wait. I just remembered something! Silly me,” the old lady said coughing. “And old friend of mine needed some help with his yard. He lives a little far from here; you’ll have to take the bus-“

“That’s fine, I can do that,” he interrupted, grabbing a pen from his back pocket. “So the address…”

  


* * *

  


Something buzzed on his nightstand and Will woke up.  
  
“Hey bud!" said Chester's voice a little bit too loud for a Saturday morning.  
  
“What's up, Chester?" Will whined, rearranging the phone so he could place the head in the pillow but still hear him. His left shoulder was sore and both of his biceps stiff.  
  
“I was worried. You didn't come to school for like… what, four days?" his friend said.  
  
Will sighed. The last week had been rough. Mrs. Tantrumi’s friend wanted him to work every day since midday and wouldn’t allow him to leave until late afternoon. The man lived on the outskirts of Highfield, so Will was forced to ride his bike for more than an hour to get there. He couldn’t afford taking the bus or it wouldn’t be profitable all that effort.  
  
“I'm okay. I'm just planning a little trip with my dad, so I've been busy,” he lied.  
  
“Uh, okay? Where are you going?" Chester asked, sounding interested.  
  
“Eh hum, we haven't decided yet? But something near the sea, I guess?" he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Oh, that sounds good. When are you leaving?"  
  
Will closed his eyes, hating every moment of that questioning.  
  
“Next Thursday. Yep. So next week I won't be there either. You tell Mrs. Pittsburgh I'll catch up with all the homework later, okay?"  
  
“Yeah, sure. So..." he made a pause, uncertain. “Are you _really_ okay? I mean, my mum told me she saw you yesterday when she was coming back from work.” Will heard him breath. “You were talking to that creepy guy that lives near that gas station, like… the one that looks mental? Is that- is that true, Will?"  
  
Will’s eyes shot open. _So he knew._ He hesitated, unsure if he should tell his friend. At the end, he knew he could.  
  
“Oh, you mean Crawfly. Yeah, I’m doing some works for him.”  
  
“Why him? Don't you know what people say about that guy?" Will was able to recognize the confusion through the phone.  
  
“Yeah, but remember Mrs. Tantrumi, the old lady next door? She’s the one who told me to go there, and she’s nice, so he can’t be that bad, right? I mean, he's weird, but pays okay, though. He's just making some kind of tunnel and hired me to dig it for him. It's not that hard. A little bit tiring if anything," he explained quietly.  
  
“Alright, just…” he left the sentence in the air and sniffed. “Anyway, my mum is making lasagna and wanted to know if you would like to come for lunch? Rebecca is invited, too."  
  
“Really? Well yeah, man. I'll be there.”  
  
“Great!” Chester said, and he really meant it.  
  
Will hung up and left the phone on the nightstand. That was good. Seeing his friend, talking to him for a while, that would distract him from how shitty his life had been lately.

  
  


“Hey, Mrs. Rawls. Thanks for the invitation. When Chester called me I couldn't say no to lasagna" he smiled.  
  
“No problem, Will. It’s always a pleasure to have you both here."  
  
She crouched and smiled at Rebecca.  
  
“How are you, Becky? How's school going?"  
  
“It's okay" she said shyly.  
  
Mrs. Rawls smiled again and waved her hand.  
  
“Come on in. Chester's in his room. He's playing that battle game again" she said, rolling her eyes jokingly.  
  
“Lunch will be ready in five minutes, okay? Go wash your hands and please, could you tell my son to turn that game off and come downstairs?" 

  


* * *

  


The lasagna was delicious. Everyone repeated several times until the saucepan was empty.  
  
“Chester told me you were planning a trip with your dad, Will. Are you excited?"  
  
By his side, Rebecca frowned but said nothing.

“Yeah, well... It was a little bit rushed so we didn't have much time to..." he babbled and stopped talking.  
  
“And you, Rebecca?"  
  
“I wasn't invited," the girl said with a hiss.  
  
“Yeah, it's just a silly trip to find some rocks and stuff. She wouldn't like it, right?" Will said quickly, color flooding his cheeks.  
  
“Right," his sister said, not even looking at him.  
  
“So, Will, tell me, how’s your mother?” Mrs. Rawls asked, a little bit puzzled by the sharp answer. “I haven’t seen her in ages!”

“Well, yeah, she’s been working a lot lately.” 

_More lies._ Will could feel Rebecca's eyes carving holes through his nape.

After that, the conversation became awkward until they could finally leave the table.  
  
  
“Man, that was weird. What's with your sister" Chester asked.

“I don't know. The moods,” he said rolling his eyes. He’d have to talk to her later.  
  
Rebecca had stayed with Mrs. Rawls, helping her with the garden and the boys had run as quickly as possible to Chester's room.  
  
For Will it was like another world. It was full of books and technology and records and everything he could only dream of. The boy had his own computer, a stereo, a TV, and so many consoles. Will wondered if the boy ever realized how lucky he was. He had a loving family, food on the table every day and a freaking bedroom the size of Will's entire house. Will couldn't help but feel a little bit of envy towards his friend.

  


* * *

  


They returned home late, after Mrs. Rawls insisted on preparing hot chocolate and cookies for them. She had also baked another batch for them to take home.  
As Will approached the apartment's door he could hear the TV blasting some kind of quiz show. His mother must have must have returned from therapy. He let her sister come in first and closed the door behind him.  
  
“Will,” his mother said sharply, and the boy flinched. “Were you snooping around my room? I can’t find my necklace,” the voice was slow, laborious. Will noticed the bottle of Baileys placed over the coffee table.  
  
_So she had been drinking._  
  
The boy winced. Why couldn’t he have two minutes of peace? Was it too much to ask?  
  
“No, mum,” he lied. “I was with Chester, I wasn't here.” He could almost see her brain scheming, trying to understand his son.  
  
“Okay,” she said after a while. Her brain was too numb to think any further. “Good boy.”

Will released the air he hadn't noticed he had been holding. “Alright" the boy said, and then walked slowly towards her sister's room.

The door was closed, which was strange so Will stopped and knocked.

“Sis," he started. “Are you up for some hot chocolate?”

“Leave me alone," she grunted, without opening the door. “I don't understand why but you're a liar. You lie to everyone. You lie to me. All the time. You think I don't notice, but I do. I’m sick of it. So just go. Leave me alone.”

“No,” he whimpered. “Listen, Rebecca, I...”

“Just go!”

“No! You're the most important thing to me. I mean it. If I lied to y- when I lied to you, it was to protect you, okay?”

Silence. 

“Open the door, please. Let's talk.”

“We _are_ talking.”

“Rebecca...” he rested his back against the door.”Please,” he said softly. “I'm scared. You're everything I've left. I don't wanna lose you too. I- I'll try, okay?”  
  
“I would have-” his sister said but her voice cracked. “I would have been happy just by your side. You don't need to do this alone. I know what's happening. I can help. You don't need to shut me out. Or treat me like a child. I don't understand why you don't trust me enough to be your support.”  
  
Will sobbed at her words. She was a child who had to grow up just too soon.  
  
“I do. I trust you more than anything. I just wanted to protect you from all the bad stuff that’s been going on lately.”

“I can bear it. I'm strong,” the girl said opening the door. “So are you.”

“When did you become so wise?”

“I've always been. One of us had to be the smart one, right?”

He smiled weakly and leaned in for a hug.

“Right.”


	5. Mirror

Will dropped the shovel to the ground and raised his hand to wipe the sweat away from his forehead. He was boiling. With all the heat from the hard work his face was flushed and he could feel the fabric under his pits soaked. His jacket had been folded and placed over a bench some time ago. And still there he was, dripping with sweat. He unfastened another button of his shirt and coughed trying to catch his breath. 

"My, my," said a voice behind him, and Will's heart skipped a beat. 

Crawfly approached him without taking his eyes off the boy.  
  
"Look at you, you're breathless." 

"It-it's nothing. I'm fine. Just a little tired. Though I could use some rest, if that's okay?"

"Of course, of course," the man made a pause, thinking. "Would you like something to drink?"  
  
"Oh, I don't wanna cause any problems, sir."

"It's not a problem, William. I'd be more than pleased."

"Uh okay" he accepted, reluctantly. He was really thirsty, but the man was so strange he wouldn't like to drink anything he offered. 

"I'll be back in a minute" the man said, and left. 

Will looked around for a place to sit thinking about his employer. He was indeed weird. Not only his personality, but also the way he looked. The man was very tall, and his height was accentuated by the fact that he was always wearing some kind of long black coat. Which was pretty intimidating.  
He was pale, too, his skin almost as white as Will’s. Wrinkles covered his face, which only made him look wicked.  
That and his eyes. Crawfly had the darkest eyes Will had ever seen. The white of his orbs contrasted sharply with the pitch black iris that sunk deep into his head, an air of eeriness and unsettling coldness emanating from his gaze.  
His hands were rubbing against each other all the time, as if he were plotting something. And maybe he was. Will had noticed that Crawfly was always spying on him, watching him through the windows or sitting very close to him in the yard.  
At first, Will thought that the man was only paying attention to him just in case he wanted to steal something. Eventually, the boy realized that the eyes weren't focused on his actions rather on his figure.  
_What a pervert,_ he thought. 

After a while, the man returned with a glass of lemonade and offered it to him. 

"Thanks, sir." Crawfly made a dismissive gesture and disappeared inside the house. 

Will left the glass on the picnic table without touching it and sat on the ground. He closed his eyes enjoying the way the clouds covered the sky making the sun more tolerable against his skin. He was gathering strength to get back to work when he heard a rasping sound. He shot his eyes open, suddenly alert.

A child no older than twelve was standing next to the table. He had a syringe and was extracting liquid from the glass of lemonade.

"What the -" Will stood up and approached the kid, who apparently wasn't aware of his presence. 

"Oi!" he exclaimed. "What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here!" 

The boy turned around and looked at him astonished. Will opened his mouth and gasped. That bastard was just like him! He had the same face!

"Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get in?" he asked, just a few inches away from the kid.

"Easy man, I'm taking a sample of this and then I'll leave, okay? I don't want any fuss." He put the syringe inside his bag and raised his hands. "Okay?" he repeated, as he had received no answer. Will noticed dark bruises over his pale wrists and how his cheekbones stick out giving him a skeletal look. He seemed terribly sick. An easy adversary if he decided to take action. Althought the boy didn't look like someone that wanted to fight.

"What? Why a sample? What's this drink?" 

"Look, this guy has the habit of drugging kids and kidnapping them. I thought everyone knew that," the kid explained with a weak voice.  
  
Yes, everyone knew that. But they thought it was a myth, creepy stories about a crazy man.  
  
“What are you doing here, anyway?” the kid asked.

“What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here?” Will snorted.

"Look, I'm doing you a favor. My advice: get the hell out of this place. You’ll get nothing good staying in here," the boy looked suddenly serious. He aimed towards the fence and started climbing with an unexpected speed. 

"Wait! You- "  
_You are just like me._

The boy looked back and smiled. 

"Come on, Cal. Get out of there," a man shouted from the street. 

"Till next time, loser," the boy saluted and jumped the fence. 

Will heard him fell and then start running.

  


* * *

  


The man fumbled his keys. His fingers were numbed by the cold breeze of the night and his mind anaesthetized from drinking vodka until the dawn light kissed the clouds.  
After some minutes of jabbing the metal in sharp motions he dimly recalled his apartment keys looking different and he fumbled in the pocket of his tailored suit, dropping the useless car keys to the ground.  
Once inside the rush of cold air and the darkness of his living room made him suddenly alert. He patted his pockets for his mobile phone, still there. That action itself opened a dam of painful memories.  
He walked to the cellar, with painfully slow steps, looking for more distractions. Drinking was the only thing that dulled the agony, he wasn't about to give it up just because he'd been kicked out of the bar.  
The man eyed the amber liquid, lost in thoughts. He shook the glass with his slender hand and heard the ice cubes jingle in the silence. He watched, entranced, as they bounce back up- remaining mostly submerged like mini icebergs. Wrapping his pale long fingers around the liquor, he quietly thanked it for its existence.  
_The elixir of his life._ The only way he could stay anaesthetized through the day and sleep through the nights, forgetting about his loss, about how much a failure he was. He did that every single day, often awaking in the morning with a cold pile of vomit to clean up either from his bed clothes or from the floor on the way to the bathroom. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Not anymore.

He raised the glass to sip, feeling the keen burn on his tongue and throat. Once he had swallowed the first mouthful of liquor, he started to drink frantically.  
All of a sudden, he gripped the bottle in his hands. Drinking from the glass was no longer fast enough. With each gulp his Adam's apple bobbed violently and the liquor drizzled from both sides of his thin weathered lips, staining the pitch black of his suit. Drinks like that are made to be sipped from small glasses; someone ought to tell him that before he ends up in a coma. But maybe that's what he was shooting for.  
He stumbled towards the couch as a light headache started to appear. He dropped over it, almost falling to the floor and took another long swig of the golden substance. He drifted away for a while. His blurry eyes gazing at the walls covered with pieces of newspapers and photos of dark haired men. Why was it so hard?  
He recovered his conscience whit a whine. His mouth was sore from the amount of alcohol that he had poured down his throat. The empty bottle clattered against the polished floor. The man tried in an unbalanced attempt to stand up, just to fall back down on the couch. He tried again, staggering towards the bedroom, gripping on bookcases and tables in an effort to find some balance.  
  
He crumbled over the bed without even bothering in taking his shoes off.


	6. Delirium

The man opened his eyes to the dimly lit room, though it was daytime no one had opened the thick drapes. With the movement of one leg the tell-tale clink of liquor bottles awoke him fully. He squinted, dry mouth sticky with thick saliva, tongue like sandpaper.  
  
He moaned before retreating under the duvet. The smell of the liquor last night so intoxicating, this morning only helped to the nausea. He closed his eyes again, wishing the headache would just go away.  
  
But something still didn't feel quite right.  
  
He tried to force his numb brain into thinking, realizing that the nasty hangover wasn't the only thing that was making his head ache. A piercing noise ringed close to him.  
His fucking phone.  
He rolled over and fetched his black coat from the floor. He coughed and tried to reply before noticing he hadn't even unlocked the thing. With shaky fingers he tapped the password and then frantically pressed Answer.  
  
"Eddie," said a steady voice from the other side of the line.  
  
"...ake," was all he managed to reply.  
  
"Are you drunk?" the other man asked. "Jesus, man. It's fucking eight in the morning. What's your problem? You spent the night at _The Mole_ again?" he accused.  
  
Eddie took a couple of seconds before answering, knowing his voice would betray him.  
  
"No," he replied with the most serious tone he could feign in his state.  
Actually, he had been kicked out of _The Mole,_ so now he spend his nights at a new found bar near the suburbs – _Camden Bilge_ or something along those lines. His ears were buzzing and white spots blurred his vision, but he tried to focus for a moment. "Did you- did you find something?"  
  
"No," Drake retorted. "I didn't."  
  
Eddie felt his heart wrench.  
  
"But one of my men did," Drake added after some moments.  
  
"Wh- what?" That bastard, playing with his mind.  
  
"Yeah. But you're not gonna like it."  
  
"J-just tell me. What i-is it?" he mumbled.  
  
"Not through the phone."  
  
"I'll be there right now," Eddie whined. "I- I need to know."  
  
Drake closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. "No. I'll be there. You're not sober enough to come," he said sharply and hung up.  
  
Eddie dropped the phone immediately, tears running down his swollen face.  
  
"My baby," he cried. "What have they done with my little baby?"

  


* * *

  


"Got a light?"  
  
Startled by the voice, Will whirled around. 

After the kid that looked like him was gone, he had gathered his things and left Crawfly’s house within minutes. He didn’t want to push his luck anymore. If the guy was a creeper, it was a privilege to be still alive.  
He’d ridden this bike for almost two miles when his chain had suddenly snapped, whipping his calf. He’d stopped taken aback by the piece of metal crumbling in his hands, which was weird given how careful he was over his bike. He was forced to walk, then, the ugly neighborhood making him feel vulnerable. 

He'd stopped for a minute to rest, his feet aching and his legs complaining. And now, as if he had appeared from nowhere, a man was standing very close behind him, a lopsided grin on his face. He was average height, and well dressed in a suit and a shirt and even a tie. He had longish curly hair, which he kept stroking back and tucking behind his ears, as if it was bothering him. 

"Left mine at home," he continued, his voice deep and rich.  
  
"Don't smoke, sorry," Will replied, starting to walk again. There was something forced and dishonest in the man's smile, and alarm bells were ringing in Will's head.  
"Are you alright? You look beat.”  
  
“I’m okay,” Will replied, not facing him and walking faster as the man appeared to be following him.  
  
“Why the rush?” the man asked. “I’m just promoting my pub. We’ve been short of personal lately, but it’s still fun,” the man said ingratiatingly.  
  
Will stopped unaware of the smirk that now covered the man’s face. Short of personal? That sounded like an opportunity to him, now that he obviously couldn’t come back to Crawfly’s.  
  
"Well, in case you change your mind." He held out a hand toward Will, offering him a card. His nails were painted black, which was weird, Will thought.  
  
“You look like the kind of guy that would enjoy my place,” the man said and Will frowned trying to understand what was that supposed to mean. However, he accepted the card.  
  
_Dark Light’s,_ it read in purple italics. _Forget the past, live the present._ Beneath it, a picture of two men dancing. Will flushed crimson. _Oh._  
  
"Oh… very kind of you, but…," Will mumbled.  
  
“Just keep it, please? You’ll thank me later.”  
  
"I don’t know, I guess it’s just not my kind of thing.” He turned around and this time started to walk without stopping. Not his place, not at all.  
  
"Shame. Maybe next time?" the man said, his eyes still locked on him. He made no move to follow the boy, but pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette, grinning. He had planted the bait, now it was only a matter of time.

  


* * *

  


Eddie pulled out of the blister his ninth aspirin. His hands fumbled the little white pill, his mind already clamoring for the relief to come. He took two gulps of water before finally swallowing it.  
Despite the popular belief that coffee will sober up someone, it does not. However, once he had taken the first sips of it, he was already feeling better. 

When he heard the knocking on the door, he rushed to it almost colliding with everything in his path.

“Drake,” he greeted relieved.

The other man slipped in and closed the door quickly. Only then, Eddie noticed the little kid standing next to him. He shot Drake an inquiring look.

“That’s the man I told you earlier on the phone. He knew your daughter,” he explained.

Eddie thought that “man” was a quite big word for that tiny little pipsqueak.  
  
“Cal, do you want something to eat?” Drake asked the kid. The boy stood still without taking his eyes off the floor. “It’s okay, he’s a friend, you can trust him,” said Drake placing a hand on his shoulder and shuffling his hair. “Okay?”

The kid nodded, but he looked anxious. Eddie noticed then how incredibly thin he was, and not in a healthy way. When the kid raised his hands to his nose, he saw red swollen marks over his bony wrists. _Handcuffs?,_ he thought.  
  
“I don’t like the smell. It stinks. I don’t like it, it’s bad,” the boy mumbled under his breath.  
  
Eddie thought about the pool of barf he had scrubbed countless times out of carpets until finally giving up and installing porcelain tiles. He knew that his whole apartment was invaded by the strong smell of alcohol and smoke. He couldn’t blame the kid for stating the obvious. He was, however, curious.  
  
“Come on, Cal. I’ll get you something you can eat,” Drake said, pushing him towards the kitchen. He snatched some slices of bread and cheese and grilled him a sandwich.  
  
“You’ll find soda in the fridge,” he offered, wiping his hands over the back of his jeans. “And you can watch TV, too.” He tossed him the remote and faced the door. “I need you to stay here while I talk to Eddie, okay?”  
  
Cal nipped the sandwich, unsure.  
  
“It’s just a minute,” Drake said walking out of the kitchen. He started closing the door but then opened it again, poking his head. “I’ll be right back.” And with that, he left the kid alone.

  


  


“What the-?” Eddie blurted as soon as Drake entered the living room.  
  
“Would you take a sit?” Drake asked.  
  
Questions that aren’t actually questions but, in fact, carefully-worded commands annoyed Eddie more than anything, especially in his own house. However, he tried to stay open minded for the sake of his own sanity.  
He hesitated for a second before collapsing over the couch. His friend sat in front of him.  
  
“That’s Cal,” Drake explained. “Found him a couple of nights ago. He was alone in the streets, clearly lost and delusional, probably drugged. I picked him up, took him home and gave the poor kid a much needed restful night.”  
  
“What does it have to do with my daughter?” Eddie inquired, his brow furrowed. Drake shushed him with a wave of his hand.  
  
“For what he told me, I got that his mother ended up in jail and his father kicked him out or something. Besides being a dick, the man’s a cop, apparently. Not wanted any misunderstanding with the media after what happened with his wife.”  
  
He stopped for some moments and closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.  
  
“The kid made it to some homeless child shelter but fled shortly afterwards. Don’t blame him, though. Those places can be the worst.”  
  
Eddie nodded, his eyelids half closed, her expression somber.  
  
“A man found him. You know how it is, right? He offered money, a warm bed, some kind of stupid paradise, and the kid bought it all. Soon enough he was buried chest deep in shit.” He made another pause, recalling the moment.  
  
“He wouldn’t tell me exactly what, but I think the guy made gatherings and sold him to the highest bidder, night in and night out. Then he was bought by some pimp and taken to other place. That’s where he met Elliott.”  
  
“Wh- what are you saying?” Eddie garbled.  
  
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Drake whispered.  
  
“No,” he cried, his eyes becoming impossibly wide, his fingers livid and twitching. “Where?”  
  
“Not far from here. In the suburbs,” revealed the man.  
  
“We need to go. Now,” Eddie almost shouted, standing.  
  
“Eddie, snap out of it. Sit down. You’re not thinking clearly. There are dozens of people in the business, we can’t just go there and shoot them all.”  
  
Eddie stared at him blankly as if thinking _“why not?”_ and Drake sighed.  
  
“If we don’t move carefully, they’ll notice and just dispatch her to another place where we won’t find her. Ever,” he said meeting his eyes.  
  
Eddie nodded, breathing shakily. The thought of losing his daughter forever was enough to calm him down.  
  
“Do you have a plan?” he asked.  
  
“I _always_ have a plan. Thing is,” started Drake taking something out of his backpack, “we’re not the only ones interested in burning that place to ashes, my friend.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> As English is not my natural language, my grammar can be a little rusty (or completely wrong). So if anyone wants to be my beta reader, I'd be more than happy. Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated c:


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